


open door.

by noifsandsorbees



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noifsandsorbees/pseuds/noifsandsorbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she leaves a spare key on the kitchen table, weighing down a note with her new address. she expects him to keep it there, to let it fall victim to a pile of mail and newspapers and breadcrumbs, but it’s been more than twenty years since he didn’t have a key to her home and she’s not ready to close him off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open door.

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-revival. prompt: Mulder crawling into bed with Scully late at night, it's the middle of winter and it's so cold he wakes her up with his cold feet.

she leaves a spare key on the kitchen table, weighing down a note with her new address. she expects him to keep it there, to let it fall victim to a pile of mail and newspapers and breadcrumbs, but it’s been more than twenty years since he didn’t have a key to her home and she’s not ready to close him off.

she’s not ready to walk out the door, either. not ready to sleep alone and surround herself with silence, deprive herself of the debates and banter that had been second nature from the moment she met him, but he took away that option months ago, turning their relationship into something she didn’t recognize – or maybe that she recognized all too well, as she watched him get lost inside his own head and the endless reaches of the internet.

so she leaves the key, leaves a way for him to know that if he can ever do what she couldn’t, if he can pull himself out of his head, that she is still right there.

it’s three months before he uses it. she comes home from a long day of work in the height of summer to him in her bed, snoring lightly under the sheets. she thinks she should be annoyed, that she should tell him that she can’t handle the emotional toll that has become their relationship tonight, but instead she is just grateful to have his warmth to crawl in beside.

“what are you doing here,” she asks as he presses his chest to her back and wraps an arm around her.

“miss you,” he mumbles, nuzzling the back of her neck, and then he falls back asleep. she closes her eyes and prays this means he’s finally fighting for them; he slips away by morning.

months pass before he surprises her again, after dozens of trips to their little house and talks that seem to go nowhere, after too many nights pleading with god to bring him back to her.

she wakes up with a shock around midnight, jumping out of bed and grabbing her gun before her eyes are fully open.

“it’s just me, scully.” he says, in the way they’ve each said more than a dozen times, almost too used to the barrel of a gun pointed on each other in the dark of a bedroom. she places it back on the nightstand and sits beside him.

“mulder, what are you doing here?” she asks, and in her startled state it sounds more accusatory than questioning. she regrets it immediately and she’s reminded how much she hates the people they’ve become. he reaches out to her shoulder, his hand ice on her skin, and she jerks away from the cold.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he says, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“why are you so cold?” she asks as she lays back in the bed, worry taking over as she turns to him. he’s shivering, looking as exhausted as she feels. 

“because it’s january and you’re nowhere near a metro stop. the walk from foggy bottom is much nicer in the summer.”

“c’mere,” she says, and he curls himself against her, nose buried in her collarbone, fingers gripping her sides. she shivers as his cold feet brush against her ankles and pulls him closer, trying to rub warmth back into him.

“i love you,” he whispers, as if it’s enough. for tonight, she decides it is.


End file.
